


Turn Your Head and Cough

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard knew it was wrong to be so attracted to a patient, especially one who’d come in for a prostate exam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to apologize for the subject matter. Oh, come on! You all know you’ve resisted the urge to write this plot bunny! I just . . . didn’t resist as well as you did. And I know men don’t normally get prostate exams annually until they’re older, but work with me here, people!
> 
> Beta'd by the awesome caitri.

Leonard McCoy nearly growled when Nurse Chapel told him his five o’clock was finally ready for him. As it was, he couldn’t stop his lip from curling up as he stomped over and grabbed the chart outside the door.

It had been the day from hell. M’Benga had come down with a stomach virus, so Leonard had been covering for his patients all day. It had played havoc with his schedule, and he’d had to go without lunch and any kind of break, rushing from room to room and apologizing for running behind. The receptionist had explained the situation to everyone as they’d checked in, and most people had been understanding, but Leonard had felt the minutes rush by with a teeth-gritting ache.

He’d always prided himself on not being one of those doctors that crammed appointments together, hurrying through each patient and pushing people out the door after forcing them to wait thirty minutes to see him and talking to them for only five. It was why his practice did so well, why word of mouth brought in ninety percent of new patients. And even knowing he was doing everyone a favor by not making them reschedule didn’t quite assuage the guilt.

But then to top it all off with having to perform an exam at the end of the day on someone who was an hour and twenty minutes late . . . .

Leonard didn’t care that the guy had called and warned them about his delay. Apparently, he’d just flown in from a business trip, and his plane had been stuck on the tarmac for two hours. They’d told him to come on in since Leonard was still behind, and they’d assumed the patient would end up showing up just as Leonard was wrapping up his last case.

Well, everyone knew what happened when people assumed . . . .

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay behind, Doctor?” Chapel asked, one hand on the doorknob. Not that Leonard blamed her. It had been a long, hectic day for everyone, and they’d already stayed almost two hours later than normal since Leonard usually came in at seven thirty to take the early patients, leaving at four thirty as a result, with Geoff staying after.

“I’ll be fine,” he said gruffly. “Everything’s already set up, and there’s no reason for both of us to suffer. Get out of here.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

He nodded shortly, mind already focusing on what he could do to speed things along. He knocked once perfunctorily on the door and went inside.

“I’m Leonard McCoy . . .” He was grateful that he’d gotten his name out, because higher brain function shut down and rebooted. Gah.

Light brown hair, carelessly disarrayed. Vivid blue eyes that crinkled as he smiled. Plump pink lips turned up sheepishly, shining from the passing of a quick tongue. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. The shadow in the hollow of his throat. Taut muscles that flexed and shifted every time he moved, poorly hidden by the half-donned hospital gown.

Just . . . gah.

“—venience,” Leonard heard as the patient— _his_ patient—came forward, the thin gown slipping down one smooth shoulder as he stretched out his hand, revealing his clavicle first and then—oh my—sliding down and swinging forward so he caught a glimpse of a strong thigh and lean hip.

“Oops,” the man said, laughing, withdrawing his hand to catch the fabric. “Sorry, my phone rang, and I had to answer it, and anyway, you caught me just as I was getting ready. You’re lucky you didn’t walk in like ten seconds earlier, or you would’ve seen a little more than you bargained for.”

Ngn.

Damn it!

“Although, I guess,” he said, shaking his head and carelessly pulling the gown up over his shoulder, closing it with one fist behind his back and offering his right hand once again, “you’ll be seeing everything anyway, so I could’ve taken my time. Jim Kirk,” he said, smiling wryly, blue eyes twinkling with amusement at his own expense.

Leonard somehow managed to shift his gaze from dizzying blue and looked down.

_Shake it. Shake his hand, you fool!_

Oh yes. Right.

“Nice . . . to meet you, Jim. I’ll be . . . right back.” Ignoring the confused arch of the eyebrow, Leonard smile weakly and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Then he ran— _sprinted_ out of the examination area and down the hall into the waiting room, momentarily stymied by the locked door and then into the parking lot, panting and desperate.

“Noooooo . . .”

He slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead as he confirmed that Chapel’s car was already gone.

Damn it to hell!

He was really going to have to examine Jim. By himself. With no sort of chaperone. Just him. Alone. With a naked Jim. Alone with naked Jim.

Leonard couldn’t stop the slightly hysterical laugh as he hugged his clipboard against his chest.

\----

Alright. Take two.

Leonard tried to convince himself that he'd overreacted the first time around, that he wasn't really that affected by Jim, that Jim wasn't really all _that_ attractive.

Nope. Nope, Jim was really that attractive.

He didn’t even understand what it was about him that impacted him so strongly. Sure, he was good-looking. Very good-looking. Okay, very, _very_ good-looking. But Leonard had seen handsomer men. Hell, he preferred women when it came down to it, rarely making the effort to pursue a man during the infrequent times he bothered to date anyone at all. He enjoyed the softness of women, their hair, their scent, the lush and sensuous welcome that men just didn’t offer. So the sudden and unexpected attraction was like a kick to the solar plexus. No one should be that appealing when dressed in an ugly hospital gown and sitting on the examination table, kicking his feet.

Leonard needed a drink.

“Sorry about that,” he said, determinedly looking through the paperwork instead of at inquisitive eyes. “I just remembered I’d wanted to tell my nurse something and was hoping to catch her before she left.”

“Oh. Well, I can wait if you want to call her up,” Jim said helpfully.

So Leonard could fixate on how Jim was sitting virtually naked on the table, separated from him by a single door, anxiously waiting for Leonard to come back in and perform his examination, to lift the gown and touch his—

“No, no,” Leonard coughed, and he could feel his skin heating up. He hoped to hell he wasn’t blushing. “Th-that’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just begin, shall we?”

“Sure thing!” Jim hopped down from the table and started turning around.

“Wha-wha-what are you doing?” Leonard squeaked. The prostate exam was supposed to happen last!

“Huh? Oh, well, I didn’t know how long you’d be, so I was playing a game on my phone,” Jim said cheerfully, waving said phone in the air. “I was just going to put it down with my stuff.”

“Oh,” he chuckled weakly, his heart thudding painfully. “Of course.”

“Why, what did you . . . oh . . .” Jim smiled, even as his cheeks reddened. “Ha! Yeah, there’s no rush for _that_ part.”

“Oh,” Leonard said again, this time a little sadly. His eyes widened, and he flipped the pages on the chart to cover up how flustered he was. This time he _knew_ his face was flushed.

“Excus—”

“So how are you feeling today, Jim?” Leonard said brusquely, hiding behind his normal pleasant bedside manner. “Any problems or complaints you want to discuss?”

“Um, no—”

“Good, good. Any questions you’d like to ask me?”

“Actua—”

“That’s fine,” Leonard said, carefully keeping his head down over the clipboard. “Now, I know you were originally supposed to have a complete stress test and physical, but Nurse Chapel informed you that because of the late hour and Dr. M’Benga’s illness that we’ll only be able to perform the physical today, right? You’ll have to come back for the stress test some other time.”

“Yeah, they told me. It’s not a problem. I’m only here because of company policy anyway. My CEO had a friend who died young because of an undetected heart condition, so he has all his Vice Presidents get checked out.”

“Alright then,” Leonard said, flipping through Jim’s questionnaire and looking over his medical history. “Everything looks—sweet mercy, just how many things are you allergic to?” he asked incredulously, looking at the writing flowing over the allotted lines and down the margins of the page.

“Don’t even ask.” He looked up in time to see Jim roll his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. Leonard felt like smacking himself for the thought. “I feel like I live off Claritin and Benadryl in the spring, and I have to wear a medical bracelet in case I ever get in an accident so they don’t inject me with—”

He should have been paying attention. He knew he should have been. But Jim was sitting on the examining table once again, and the way he’d sat had the hospital gown stretched taut and riding up his lap, barely covering everything important. In fact, Leonard thought that if he backed up a little and sat on his roll stool, he just might be able to get a glimpse of—

“Do you like it?”

“What? What?” Leonard asked, panicked. “What are you—”

“My ring,” Jim said, lifting the hand that had been covering his thigh. “I noticed you looking at it.” The way Jim’s eyes sparkled so mischievously made Leonard realize with a sinking heart that Jim knew he hadn’t been staring at the ring.

 _Damn_ it!

“Actually, I was inspecting the scar running across your thigh," Leonard said coolly, gathering the ruined tatters of his pride around himself and praying he came off as sincere. "If I didn't know better, I would think—”

Jim laughed, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. "Oh, man, the _scar_. Sorry," he said, shaking his head sheepishly. "I'm not always this much of an ass. I thought—” He laughed again. "Wait til Uhura hears about this," he muttered. "Anyway, yeah, knife fight. I had . . . an adventurous youth let's say."

Leonard's eyebrows went up. The scar was almost a good six inches across and dangerously close to his femoral artery. And Jim had said "knife fight," not “accident.” "You don't say," he drawled, and he didn't realize he'd gotten closer until his finger reached out to trace the white line and Jim took in a surprised breath of air.

He jerked his hand back.


	2. Chapter 2

_"You don't say," he drawled, and he didn't realize he'd gotten closer until his finger reached out to trace the white line and Jim took in a surprised breath of air._

_He jerked his hand back._

“Sorry about that.” He gripped the edges of his clipboard, his finger tingling. “Professional curiosity.”

“Oh, well then you’re going to love me.”

He was? Really?

Jim gave him a lazy smile, but Leonard got the impression for some reason that he wasn’t quite as composed as he was acting.

“I’ve got all sorts of scars you can examine to your heart’s content.” Jim winked and spread his arms as if giving Leonard free reign of his body, and damn it, that thought made parts of Leonard _far_ too happy. He was a recently divorced, mostly heterosexual doctor for goodness sake, and there were laws about taking advantage of one’s patients!

Even though, technically, Jim was M’Benga’s patient . . . .

 _Bad_ Leonard. Bad. It would be oh so good, but still. Bad.

“That won’t be necessary.” Unfortunately. “Unless one of them is bothering you?” he asked a trifle hopefully.

Jim grinned slyly. “If I lie and say ‘yes,’ will you tell me I’m a naughty boy?”

He drew himself up to his full height. “ _Mr_. Kirk—”

“Jim.”

“—please try to stay on track.” Because he was being much too distracting, and Leonard really, _really_ needed that drink right about now. “It’s late, and I don’t know about you, but I have places to be.” Like at his favorite bar, trying to forget this day had ever happened.

“Sorry about that. Really. Force of habit." Jim didn't _look_ sorry. He looked damn sexy was what he looked like. Leonard made himself raise his eyes above Jim’s waist. 

“Force of habit? As in you habitually make inappropriate sexual remarks at incredibly awkward and annoying times?”

“Pretty much.”

Leonard blinked and tried to push down the jealousy. No matter what his libido wanted, Jim wasn’t actually his, so there was no reason for the dark thoughts that were currently formulating in his head. Still, Leonard flipped another page harshly and looked forward to having to draw Jim’s blood. He might accidentally miss his vein. A few times.

“Can I assume you’re sexually active at this time?”

“Well, not at this _exact_ time . . . that is to say, yes.” Jim slunk down a little on the table at the glare Leonard shot him, looking exactly liked a kicked puppy. Except for not looking at all like one in that he was basically naked and too damn attractive for Leonard’s good, and the slouching down had made the hospital gown go up just the tiniest fraction more, and Leonard was going straight to hell, he just knew it.

"And are you monogam—”

“I’m sorry.” Jim wiped the grin off his face a minute later, looking repentant. “I shouldn’t have laughed, huh?” 

Leonard’s eyebrow twitched. “Do you practice safe sex?”

“Definitely.” Leonard was just about to move on to the next question when Jim finished with, “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

“Well, sure. I use condoms during intercourse, but I’m not a fan of the taste of latex, so if I’m doing other things . . .” He shrugged. 

Leonard swallowed. “By which you are referring to oral sex?” He had to swallow again when Jim licked his lips. Damn those pink, shiny, perfectly plump lips!

“—or.” He inwardly cursed when he realized Jim had said something, but he’d been too caught up in the way the lights were reflecting off the wetness created by Jim’s tongue to hear. Damn them to hell!

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” He resolutely looked down at his clipboard to refrain from being sidetracked again.

“Oh, I just said, ‘that’s correct, Doctor.’ Or in other words, I don’t use any kind of barriers if I’m fingering someone or if I have my mouth on them. I’m more of a skin-on-skin man.”

Not thinking about it, not thinking about it, _not thinking about it._

“And once again to be clear, is this in regards to female or male partners?” Leonard’s fingers twitched in a reflexive bid to cross hopefully. Jim was flirting, but Leonard wanted to be sure—damn it, it didn’t matter if Jim preferred men, women or small farm animals; it had nothing to do with him!

“Either really. There are different advantages to both, ya know?”

He was a doctor. Of course, he knew. Why _Jim_ had to know, however . . . He had the disgustingly tempting urge to pout. He frowned instead.

“You do realize the dangers of oral to genital contact, don’t you? There are a number of sexually transmitted diseases that can be spread through—” 

“I’m not too worried—”

“Obviously not, Jim, and let me tell you, you’re a damn fool because of it!”

Wide, guileless blue eyes looked at him, totally at odds with the casual sensuality—

Damn it!

“You’re taking your life into your own hands by not only sleeping with multiple partners but refusing to use some basic protection!” He was more upset than he should be that Jim was apparently so promiscuous. 

“I use condoms—”

“Only during intercourse!” It was all Leonard could do to not hit Jim over the head with his clipboard. “Do you engage in mutual masturbation?”

“Well, of course—”

“Frotting?” While not technically a medical term, Leonard had learned long ago to use more commonly accepted descriptions of sexual acts when talking to his patients.

“Who doesn’t—”

“Cunnilingus?”

“I already said I—”

“Fellatio?”

“I just said—”

“Do you let your partner ejaculate into your mouth?”

“Uh, duh—”

“Do you spit or swallow?”

“It’s always better to swallow—”

“Anilingus?”

“Rimming? Well, sure, I mean, have you—”

“Vaginal sex?”

“Are you serious—”

“Anal sex?”

Jim sighed. “Yes.”

“Tea bagging?”

“Uh huh.”

“Felching?”

“Yup.”

“Snowballing?”

“Doc?” And Leonard blinked because Jim had started laughing. “I’m sorry, but is there a point to this?”

“Don’t be an ass! Of course there’s a point!” At least, there had been until Leonard had started getting carried away, wondering if there was anything Jim _hadn’t_ done and becoming inappropriately fixated on finding it. And maybe, just a little turned on. Maybe. “I was just demonstrating that you engage in high risk sexual practices—”

“I would hardly call that a demonstration,” Jim murmured.

“—and the likelihood,” Leonard pressed on, feeling his face get warm, “that you’ve contracted various diseases—”

“Is slim to none.”

“Jim,” Leonard said in exasperation, his clipboard slapping against his thigh, “you need to—”

“Look, Doc, give me some credit, please.” Jim leaned forward, shaking his head. “I’m not monogamous, but I’ve hardly had sex with the whole city either. I only sleep with people I trust, with friends who are looking for the same thing I am, and I would never do anything that would expose them to danger. The same goes for them. I’ve had eight partners my entire life, and sure, I’ve tried a lot of stuff, but I’m not ashamed of any of it, nor am I concerned that I’ve put anyone at risk. I’ve never had an STD, and I get checked out every year, just as a precaution. I enjoy sex, but I’m hardly what you’d call a sex addict, and if it makes you feel better to lecture me, then go right ahead, but please don’t take me for someone that can’t keep it in his pants.”

Leonard closed his mouth. Eight partners? That was it? _He’d_ had more partners than that. Although he _was_ older, and most of them had been right after the divorce when alcohol hadn’t been enough, and he’d needed to get lost in something else. But the way Jim talked, he’d just assumed . . . .

“I see. Well, that’s . . . that’s good then. Nevertheless, I hope you’ll understand that blood work and a visual examination are part of—”

“Sure thing, Doc. No worries.”

Now he just felt embarrassed. It did have the side effect of dispelling his arousal at least. 

Most of it anyway.

Leonard went through the next series of questions quickly, obsessively not thinking about the fact that Jim was basically naked with the exception of a thin hospital gown that was meant to be opened so he could slip his hand inside and thoroughly palpitate and examine—

He cleared his throat. Several times.

“You okay, Doc?”

“I need a drink.”

Jim chuckled, eyes squinting and showing appealing laugh lines that Leonard wanted to trace with his tongue. “You and me both.”

He bowed his head for a second. He was in so much trouble.

“Doc?”

“Let’s check your ears.” 

“What? Oh, okay, sure.”

Ears looked good. Eyes looked good. Mouth looked good. So good. Jim’s eyes were hypnotizing up close, some indescribable shade of blue that seemed to completely overtake Leonard’s field of vision. And that mouth . . . no one should have that sinful a mouth . . .

“Just breathe normally,” he instructed Jim, and his voice wasn’t in the least bit strangled. Exhaling, Leonard adjusted the ear tips of his stethoscope and moved close to Jim, their legs brushing as Jim made room for him.

If he closed his eyes, it was only to concentrate on listening. 

He slid the chest piece down the front of the robe, fingers just brushing smooth skin. Warm. Firm. Slow, measured beats. _Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump._ The last hints of Jim’s cologne, mellow and rich. Leonard licked his lips nervously.

His hand seemed heavy as it moved the chest piece up, over his shoulder and down his exposed back. He opened his eyes, because he had to look. He had to.

He saw pale skin, framed in a deep-V by the flaps of the gown, dotted with the occasional freckle that deserved to be tongued and tasted until Leonard had each and every one memorized. The gentle curve of Jim’s back that called to his fingers to trace and follow the path of his spine, disappearing under the fabric. The flex and ripple of muscle—

“Something wrong?”

“Just inspecting a mole.” He bent his head further, as to appear like he was studiously gauging the size and shape of said object instead of taking a moment to gather his scattered thoughts.

“Ah, okay.”

_Get it together, man! You’re a doctor, not a lust-addled degenerate without a lick of morals!_

Leonard managed to be completely professional for a long time after that, through taking Jim's body measurements, temperature and blood pressure, through collecting the samples of blood, through having to be in the same room with Jim while he urinated into a cup, not peeking, not even _once_ , even though that meant giving himself bruises from where he’d gripped his arms while waiting for Jim to finish. But Leonard didn’t stray from the path of Hippocrates, no matter how powerful the temptation.*

And then it all went to hell in a hand basket because in his fervor to be good, he’d completely forgotten about having to check Jim for hernia and for prostate cancer.

For the love of—why was that happening to him? Why? _Why_?

Long, deep breaths. In. And out. In. And out. In—damn it, he was getting more excited, not less!

“We’re . . . nearing the home stretch now, Jim.” Shit, he was sweating, he was so nervous. “If you don’t mind standing?”

“Sure thing, Doc,” and Jim slid off the table, raising the hem of the hospital gown without Leonard’s urging, which was perfect since Leonard’s tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth, pulling it up and up and up, and fuck, oh fuck—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Excerpt from the Hippocratic Oath: In every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction and especially from the pleasures of love with women or with men, be they free or slaves. (source: Wikipedia)


	3. Chapter 3

_“Sure thing, Doc,” and Jim slid off the table, raising the hem of the hospital gown without Leonard’s urging, which was perfect since Leonard’s tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth, pulling it up and up and up, and fuck, oh fuck—_

“This okay?”

Was. It. Ever! And Leonard had thought Jim’s _face_ was gorgeous!

Long and thick and perfect, even at rest as it was, all Leonard could think of was what he’d give—what he’d _pay_ —to get his hands on it for real. And his mouth. And possibly his—

“Doc?”

Leonard’s eyes darted up to meet questioning blue, and he realized Jim wasn’t flirting with him at the moment, that Leonard’s façade of professionalism had actually worked, and Jim was wondering what the holdup was while Leonard was drooling over his dick.

Straight to hell. There weren’t even _lines_ for people like him.

“I’ll just . . . perform a quick visual exam and check for any hernias.”

Leonard found himself reaching for Jim’s penis even before Jim hummed in acknowledgement—when had he moved so close?—and had to pull his hands back when he realized he hadn’t donned gloves. He had to fight down a semi-hysterical laugh and hoped Jim hadn’t noticed.

He went to the tray Nurse Chapel had laid out and pulled two gloves free from the box. “You’re not allergic to latex, right?” It hadn’t been on the mammoth list of allergens Jim had submitted, and Jim had said he didn’t like the taste of latex, not that he was irritated by it, but it was standard procedure to ask before putting them on. The office had vinyl gloves as an alternative, but latex offered a higher level of sensitivity . . .

Leonard’s thoughts derailed.

“No, I’m good.”

He kept himself from jumping by force of will alone. “Th-that’s good. That . . . you’re good.” Leonard bowed his head as he pulled on the first glove and winced. Could he be any more pathetic? The snap of the glove closing around his wrist was abnormally loud.

After both gloves were on, Leonard moved his stool near Jim and sat down, eyes politely averted the whole time.

Which was why it was a little shock to his heart when he finally looked up and had a face full of semi-erect cock.

Wh-when had that happened?

Damn it!

He didn’t say anything about the fact that Jim was semi-aroused. The whole point was to make the experience as quick and matter of fact as possible, not point out when patients got excited.

Or when the doctor got excited either.

“The first thing I’ll do,” he explained, voice raspier than normal, “is inspect your penis for any visible sores. Feel free to stop me and ask any questions you might have about what I’m doing.”

His hands were as steady as he could make them when he reached out and gingerly grasped Jim’s cock, checking the length, glancing at the tip, and letting go as fast as he could, trying to ignore the lingering warmth, the way his mouth filled with saliva. It was right in front of him! Just—just there! Right there! He swallowed.

He was grateful that he didn’t have to look at Jim’s face any longer. He didn’t know how successfully he’d have been able to conceal his lust if he’d had to look at Jim’s face _and_ erection. And it was just going to get worse.

“Now I’ll perform a hernia test.”

Leonard cupped Jim’s testicles, attempting but unable to stop the fine trembling in his hand as he felt their heat and weight. Jim’s body jerked slightly when Leonard’s fingers pushed upward, his other hand resting low on his abdomen.

It was torture. Absolute torture.

“Please turn your head and cough,” he heard himself instruct distantly.

It felt like hours later before they were finished, even though less than a minute passed. Jim was completely erect, and Leonard . . . Leonard was, too.

“Alright.” He pushed his stool back, his hands strategically in his lap. “This is the last part, and then we’re done. Please turn around and lean over the table.”

“I normally expect a blow job first if I’m going to do this,” Jim joked as he turned around, his voice strained.

Leonard blinked. Well . . . that was a change from the typical “do I at least get dinner first,” but if that’s what it took to make Jim feel comfortable, he’d sacrifice himself on the altar of—

For the second time that day, higher brain function stopped.

Jim bent over the table, forearms on the top, wriggling to get comfortable and giving Leonard a view that only got better as the stubbornly clinging folds of the gown finally gave way, revealing . . . _everything._

Oh fuck, he was going to hyperventilate.

Breathe. Breathe, man! _Breathe_ , damn it!

Jim was just so . . . and he was . . . and there was . . . his _ass_ . . . his thighs . . . his—

“I didn’t realize it was quite so drafty in here.” Jim looked over his shoulder to smile wryly at Leonard, and, and, and—

Later, Leonard wouldn’t know how he’d gotten through the prostate exam. He vaguely recalled dropping the packet of lube once or twice, then having to open another one when he missed his fingers, all of the lube falling to the floor since his eyes were glued to more important things. He knew he’d given his standard explanation of what was going to happen, knew his voice had been as reassuring as he could make it, however, that was because his mouth had gone ahead without him through the expected routine, and not because he could recollect saying anything. He knew that the whole thing was over, because by the time he surfaced from his daze, he was throwing the gloves into the biohazard waste receptacle and telling Jim he could use the tissues for any residual mess.

He did remember certain things. The image of Jim’s parted cheeks and tiny opening were branded into his eyes forever. The feel of pushing into Jim’s body with his finger, the muscle gripping him so tightly that Leonard wanted to moan, sweat glistening on his forehead; Jim’s back tensing as he was penetrated; seeing part of his body embedded in Jim, so deep that his knuckles grazed Jim’s buttocks; the heat, _fuck_ , the heat of him; searching for and finding Jim’s prostate; hearing Jim grunt, his hips twitching—these were all things that would haunt Leonard until his dying day.

“Go ahead and get dressed,” he ordered harshly, needing to get out of there before he did something he’d regret, desperate and out of control and wanting Jim so much he was shaking from it.

\-----

Leonard stumbled into his office, leaning back against the door as his hands fumbled for his belt. Shit, shit, shit, he only had a few minutes, and there was no way he could go back in there until he’d gotten rid of the lawsuit waiting to happen that was currently stretching out the front of his pants.

He hissed, eyelids fluttering closed as he wrapped his fingers around his erection, and he had to lock his knees in order to remain standing, body jerking as he started to pump. Fuck. _Fuck_!

Leonard’s head made a dull thud as it hit the door.

That felt . . . he bit down on the heel of his left hand to muffle the strangled groan, his fingers tightening around his cock, trying to mimic the complete and utter magnificence of what it would feel like being inside Jim for real.

Except his hand was a poor substitute for what he’d felt for such a brief time, dry and rough from the numerous times he washed it during the day, too blandly familiar and wholly inferior to do Jim justice.

Leonard hobbled over to his desk, pants falling around his thighs, and pulled open one drawer after another, looking for a packet of lube—ah ha!

Just as he was about to grab one, Leonard noticed the open box of gloves. Exactly like the gloves he’d worn when he’d—

No. No! That was—that was bordering on perverse! There was no way he was going to put on a glove simply because it was what he’d had on when he’d had some small portion of his anatomy inside Jim! Prepost—

Leonard accidentally looked at the clock and realized almost four minutes had already passed, and time was running out.

He scrunched up his nose, then cursing, grabbed a packet of lube and held it with his teeth before closing his eyes and reaching for a glove, feeling ridiculous as he tugged it onto his hand. The resulting twitch in his cock, however, proved that while his brain objected to the prop, his body agreed wholeheartedly.

Tearing open the lube, he squirted some onto the glove and, grateful that there were no mirrors in his office, because he wouldn’t have been able to look himself in the eyes, he smeared the stuff over his erection, hips spasming, before going to town, pumping for all he was worth.

Fuck. _Fuck_. Damn it! Fucking hell, that was just so sick and wrong but _good_ , oh so good, smooth and all . . . latex-y . . . and the finger that had been inside Jim pulsed, making it better somehow, and Leonard had to lean against his desk, the edge pressing against his buttocks as he thrust into his grip, pants all the way to the ground, remembering Jim bent over the table, legs spread, remembered the firm feel of one cheek as he pulled it slightly to the side, remembered breaching Jim’s anus, unable to look away as his finger slid inside—

“Doc, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you—”

“No!” Leonard gasped, his free hand outstretched as if to keep the door from opening. “Don’t come in here!” But it was too late, too fucking late, and there was Jim, still dressed only in the hospital gown, standing at Leonard’s door, eyes wide and jaw dropped as he watched Leonard.

As he watched Leonard _who was still masturbating_! With a latex glove!

Leonard meant to stop. Oh, did he mean to. He thought about it. He planned on it. His hand even tensed, getting ready to pull away.

But trust Jim Kirk to foil even that.

“Well, fuck.” And Jim was striding forward, eyes brilliant with anger or surprise or something else that had Leonard’s heart pounding. Jim reached for the collar of his gown and yanked it down to bare rippling muscles, each movement implanted deep within Leonard’s brain with some kind of freeze frame motion capture setting that he’d hitherto not known he’d possessed. Jim stepped into the path of the window, and although the blinds were closed, the light from the setting sun still managed to leak into the office, outlining Jim with a glowing halo and bathing him in gold like some sort of fallen god, brought to earth for Leonard’s debauched pleasure.

The only way it could have been better was if Jim were running.

“Get _out_!” he rasped wildly, trying to salvage—hell, he didn’t know _what_ at this point, his pride, some last shred of decency, something, _anything_ , but it was too late. He’d already been on the cusp, and then to have the visual stimuli on top of the sensory, to have Jim _watch_ him as —

Jim had barely taken two steps before Leonard was biting his lip nearly clean through and coming all over himself, groaning, ass thumping against the furniture. The latex and lube made everything almost unbearably slick, and he couldn’t hold himself hard enough, each increasingly rough tug of his hand only making it better, pleasure dancing a tumultuous beat up and down his spine.

Leonard swayed, indebted to his desk for its support as he struggled to stay upright, and blinked to clear his sight. Fucking hell. That had been some of the best sex he’d had in years. And Jim had only been _watching_.

Jim. Oh, fuck, Jim.

“Jim?” Leonard used his semen, lube and latex covered hand to push off from the desk and almost gave himself a concussion when it slipped off the polished wood, nearly taking him to the ground. “Jim wait,” he panted, wanting to explain, needing to explain, even while dreading the explanation itself. He’d never felt simultaneously euphoric and terrified at the same time. “Jim!”

But Jim was gone.

\-----

It was a decidedly dour and depressed Leonard McCoy who entered the office the next morning. Jim was a fast son of a bitch, and even though Leonard had virtually hopped out of his office while trying to pull his pants up from around his ankles, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man. Just his hospital gown, lying discarded on the floor.

Technically, Leonard hadn’t done anything wrong. Legally, he thought he was still safe. Morally . . . yeah, morally, he didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Jim had been flirting. He hadn’t imagined it! But—but Jim had just _left_ afterward, had left while Leonard had been cooling in his own juices, and he didn’t know what to think. Jim had been in the process of taking off the only covering he’d been wearing before things had literally blown up in his face, so Leonard had to assume he’d wanted to join him, but . . . maybe he’d been freeing his arms in order to punch Leonard’s lights out? Which didn’t make a lick of sense considering those gowns were nothing _but_ room, but why else would he have run off like that? Unless . . .

Unless he’d noticed Leonard had been wearing the latex glove, realized how incredibly kinky and twisted and unnatural Leonard was and had hightailed it out of there in order to get as far away from him as possible?

That was probably it, Leonard decided glumly. He’d known, he’d _known_ he shouldn’t have taken that damn glove out!

It would serve him right if Jim sued, or spread the truth about his deviant ways to the rest of his patients.

“Good morning, Dr. McCoy. How was the appointment last night? Did you get home at a reasonable hour?”

Leonard glared at Nurse Chapel, upper lip twitching as he fought to keep off the snarl.

“My goodness, that well, hmm?” She blinked, pulling back the message slip in her hand until it was close to her body. “Well then, I’ll have Lisa call him back and tell him—”

“What? Jim Kirk called? What did he say? What did he want? Did he ask for me? Should I call him back?” If the paper hadn’t been so close to her breasts, he would have grabbed it from her.

“Oh, well, Mr. Kirk called to reschedule his stress test, and I was going to ask if you wanted to take him since you’d already seen him once, or if I should give him to—”

“I’ll take him!”

She took a step back. “Al-alright. I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Leave him with M’Benga. Just—just make sure my schedule is free during the appointment. There were . . . a couple of things I didn’t get around to discussing with him last night, because he was in such a hurry to leave,” Leonard said, needing for his own peace of mind to make sure Jim was still M’Benga’s patient and thinking furiously of some reason he could give her that might sound legitimate for wanting to be available. “And he’d probably prefer to go over them with me instead of having to rehash the story with Geoffrey.”

If anything, her eyebrows went even higher. “Very well, Dr. McCoy. I’ll arrange matters to . . . accommodate Mr. Kirk.”

He had the horrible feeling he was flushing. Damn it. But for the chance to see Jim again? He’d put up with a lot more than a few sidelong glances from his nurse if it meant he could be alone with Jim. “Thank you,” he said stiffly and headed for his office.

Jim was coming back. He was _actually_ coming back. Which meant Leonard hadn’t completely scared him off after all. He’d be seeing him again. And there wouldn’t even be any nudity this time to get in the way. Sadly. Still, Leonard would be able to talk to Jim and explain himself—surely he’d come up with something by that point—and then . . . and then . . .

Leonard closed his office door behind him and stood staring at the scene of the crime, thinking about attraction and pleasure and blue, blue eyes.

And then he’d make sure that Jim had a reason to stay.


	4. Chapter 4

Today was the day. The day Jim came back.

Fuck, Jim was coming back today.

Leonard took a deep gulp of his sixth cup of coffee of the day. He normally had two cups a day at most, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Not that the caffeine was helping anything really. He felt so jittery that he was ready to bounce off the damn walls. Still, it gave him something to do with his hands when he wasn’t in with a patient. Nurse Chapel had already threatened to take his pen away from him if he kept tapping it.

If only they were busier! But fate had conspired against him, and his schedule was unusually open after two cancellations and a holiday weekend when everyone was heading out of town. So he spent all of his time drinking coffee, driving his nurse insane, and thinking. Thinking about Jim, remembering how he’d looked, how he’d felt, reliving the sex—admittedly one-sided but still spectacular—and then the crushing disappointment.

To say Leonard was getting a trifle worked up would have been a gross understatement.

He’d gotten a haircut. He’d shaved that morning—twice. He’d bought a new shirt that the saleswoman had sworn brought out the green in his eyes and slacks that she’d likewise claimed made his ass look _amazing_. So much so that she’d slipped her phone number in with his purchases, but that might have been a sales ploy to get him to buy more, not that he cared either way. There was only one person whose phone number he wanted. Freely given phone number anyway. Technically, he could look through Jim’s records and get the information off his chart, but he hadn’t felt the need to resort to those measures.

Okay, only three times, but he hadn’t actually copied the number down or called Jim.

Leonard shifted in his seat, having to adjust himself. The pants were damn uncomfortable. He still didn’t know why he’d bought the things considering he wore his lab coat all day. But after having seen Jim’s ass in all its naked glory, he didn’t want to give off the impression he was lacking in comparison. Maybe he could accidentally on purpose take off his coat while Jim was watching . . .

 _Damn it, man! Get a grip on yourself!_ He rubbed his forehead, trying to relieve the caffeine headache. Next, he’d be scheming to drop his pen repeatedly and bend over random surfaces to pick it up.

Which . . . wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ plan—

That was it. He needed to get out of there.

“I’m going to lunch,” he snarled in the general direction of the front desk and stalked out of the building, determined to not come back until he had his head on straight.

That resolution only lasted about half an hour before he’d rushed back to the office. He’d only picked at his sandwich and after finding himself glancing at his watch for the sixth time in two minutes, he’d known he was fighting a lost cause. He’d somehow made it through almost two weeks of waiting, but the last hour was going to kill him.

Jim was his— _M’Benga’s_ last appointment of the day and would be in sometime in the next ten minutes or so. _Leonard’s_ last appointment wasn’t for another hour, but until then, he’d be free for any . . . additional consultation Jim might want.

Shame, apparently, was something he’d abandoned long ago.

Leonard stood in front of the mirror in his private bathroom, critically examining his reflection one last time. He’d already flossed and brushed his teeth, as well as restyled his hair from tousled to ordered to tousled to ordered again. He knew he was getting too worked up, but he just didn’t know what to expect when Jim walked in. The whole situation had been humiliating as hell, but . . . but he wanted to see Jim again.

He wet a paper towel, running it over his flushed face and neck, and wished he hadn’t eaten lunch after all as his stomach churned. His hands were shaking when he wiped them on his lab coat.

Fuck, it was such a bad idea. He should just avoid going out there at all and leave right after Mrs. Anderson’s checkup.

Leonard caught a glimpse of his shirt in the mirror and wondered if he should undo one more button.

Damn it all to hell! He didn’t even know Jim! All of the—the anxiety and borderline obsession and wet dreams which were making his sheet threadbare from the number of times he’d had to wash them, all of it was crazy! So what if Jim was sexy? Ridiculously sexy with a body that beckoned and enticed and promised to drive Leonard mad with desire. Ha! Like that mattered! And so what if Leonard had spent over eighty percent of the past two weeks lost in fantasies where he ran his hands—sometimes with gloves, sometimes without—and tongue all over that body? Or that there’d been nights where he’d spent more time awake than asleep, rubbing himself like a mad man, until the sheets were crisp with dried lube and semen. None of that was important! He was making a fool of himself, and for what? For a guy that probably remembered him as the pervert with the latex glove!

Leonard stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he stomped into the examination room to check that everything was ready for his next—and _final_ —appointment.

\-----

Five minutes later, he hurried back into the bathroom, undid the button of his shirt, nodded to himself in the mirror, and scurried back out.

\-----

Okay. Leonard didn’t know how it was possible, but Jim was actually even better looking than he’d remembered.

He’d made up some excuse to walk in on Jim’s stress test, he couldn’t even remember what he’d talked to Geoff about, and he’d timed it just right so that Jim was running on the treadmill at the time, wearing only a pair of yellow jogging shorts that flipped up with every step.

Gah.

It had proven to Leonard that while it would definitely have been better if Jim had been running when he’d walked in on him the other day, Leonard would have come _a lot_ faster, disgracing himself even more. Poetry in motion. All perfect lines and form and tensed muscles and short shorts and long legs and short shorts and that fine, fine ass and short shorts, and he was running even faster, legs pumping, his chest heaving, breath coming in heavy, tearing gasps, faster and harder and faster and harder—

And then Jim had tripped, shredding Leonard’s fantasy and making him so, so grateful he’d had the foresight to button up his lab coat. But Jim had made up for it by laughing, hunched over with his hands on his knees, and he’d smiled at Leonard, a big, wide, beautiful smile, and Leonard couldn’t stop but smile hesitantly back.

“Hi, Bones,” Jim whispered to Leonard as Geoff wrote down his numbers. “Long time no see.”

Bones?

“Dr. McCoy, there was something I wanted to ask you about regarding my last appointment. Do you have a minute after I finish up here?”

Oh, damn. It couldn’t be bad, right? Jim was smiling; surely it couldn’t be bad. And that was what Leonard had wanted, what he’d planned for. Finding a way to talk to Jim, to explain, to get him alone and do unspeakably dirty things with—to get him alone and talk to him, damn it! Talk!

“Of course, Jim.” He had to clear his throat. “My last appointment is coming—is _arriving_ soon,” he said, eyes wide, not wanting to give Jim the wrong—right—wrong impression, “but I’ll be available after three if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all.” Jim straightened, muscles shifting hypnotically, shiny with sweat, nipples tight and— “I don’t mind waiting a little bit longer for you,” he said huskily.

Leonard froze, staring at Jim and wondering what exactly he meant.

“Did you need anything else, Leonard?” Geoff asked as he came up behind him, looking affably between the two of them.

“No, I—it can—it can wait. I’ll . . . I’ll see you later, Jim.” Leonard finally moved when Geoff started giving him funny looks, and while it was hard to walk out of there, it was next to impossible to get Jim’s expression out of his head.

\-----

Mrs. Anderson was late, and then the appointment went on longer than he’d expected, and by the time he finally ushered her out of the office, it was almost three thirty and everyone was gone. Everyone.

“Damn it!” Leonard crumpled her chart in his hands, glaring at the empty waiting room as if he could make Jim appear out of thin air if only he scowled hard enough. “ _Damn_ it.”

“Why so blue, Bones?”

Leonard spun around, and there he was. Jim. Wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and a cocky smile. But his eyes weren’t half as sure as his smile was, and Leonard finally realized he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

He didn’t ask him where he’d been. Hell, he didn’t care. The front door was locked, most of the lights were turned off, and he’d been waiting for Jim longer than he could say.

“My office,” he growled and grabbed Jim by the upper arm, dragging him behind him.

“Bones—”

He half threw Jim into the room, closing and locking the door behind him, just in case Jim had the fool notion of trying to leave before he’d said his piece. Leonard was breathing hard by the time he turned around, butterflies just about performing kamikaze runs in his stomach, but he had things to say, and come hell or high water, he was going to damn well say ‘em!

“I don’t make a habit of-of molesting my patients or . . . masturbating after an exam.” Leonard’s neck was aching from the way his chin was jutting out, teeth clenched together until he could swear he could hear the enamel grinding off. If he couldn’t say it while looking Jim in the eyes, he didn’t deserve to say it all. “And I’ve never been so ashamed of what—of _all_ of it, of myself and how I acted, and you gotta believe me that if I could—if I could do it all again, I would never—”

“What are you apologizing for, Bones?” Jim’s eyes were carefully blank, and Leonard had the sinking feeling he was making everything worse. “For jacking off, or for jacking off because of me?”

“I’m not—well, I am. I’m sorry for-for all of it. That wasn’t—I shouldn’t have—I just,” he’d somehow gotten so close to Jim that he could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and fuck, he was so terrified of messing it all up that he was digging holes into his palms to keep from grabbing onto Jim and not legging go, “I just never wanted anything as much as I want you.” His words were so quiet by the end of it that he almost couldn’t hear them himself, but Jim heard if his widening eyes said anything about it. And the triumphant and delighted grin that spread across his face said everything Leonard needed to know.

“It’s about fucking time.”

Jim’s hand came up and pulled Leonard’s head forward, crushing their lips together, relief making Leonard clumsy as he returned the kiss.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Leonard had his eyes closed and his arms around Jim so fast it made his head spin. Although, that might have just been Jim. Weeks of remembering and agonizing and hoping and wanting, and he had him. He had Jim.

“What do you mean it’s about fucking time?” He couldn’t touch him enough, couldn’t get close enough. Leonard was already tearing at Jim’s clothes before the thought made it to his brain. “You were the one to barrel out of here before I could—”

"Well, what was I supposed to think?” Not that Jim was complaining. Leonard didn’t even regret the eighty dollars he’d spent on his shirt as Jim ruined it beyond repair, buttons flying all over. The money had gone to a good cause. “You didn't respond to any of my flirting! You were distracted and standoffish the whole time! Not to mention grumpy. I've _never_ seen such a pissed off doctor. And then you practically snarled at me to get my clothes on and go! And _then_ , after trying to think up some bullshit question to ask you, I walked in on you masturbating in your office, and I thought, finally! _Finally_ , a sign you wanted me back. But when I tried to join you, you yelled at me 'get out' and—"

"This isn't a porn film, you know!” Leonard ditched his lab coat and the remains of his shirt, cursing when the damn pants wouldn’t cooperate before getting then undone. “I couldn't just say, ‘why don't we have sex over the examination table while you're here. Two prostate exams for the price of one!’ What else was I supposed to do? It's called morals, you ass!"

"Morals?” Jim snorted. His shirt had disappeared somewhere behind the couch, and he was pushing his jeans and boxers down strong legs. “Where the hell were your morals when you were jerking off in—"

"I don’t want to talk about that!” Fuck, Jim was naked. He didn’t want to talk about anything ever again. “Jim.” Leonard’s voice was heavy and strangled, his hands twitching with need. “Jim, I gotta . . . please . . .”

Jim’s eyes softened for a moment before he gave Leonard a mischievous grin and started to turn around, the desk right behind him. “I normally expect a—”

Leonard’s hands on his hips stopped him. “I remember,” he said hoarsely, and he dropped to his knees, taking Jim’s cock into his mouth with an urgency that bordered on crazed.

“Shit!”

Leonard didn’t know what Jim was saying, couldn’t understand it because every molecule in his body was focused on memorizing Jim’s taste, on the feel of him, hot and thick on his tongue, on the way his thighs tensed and relaxed under his hands, on the quick shallow thrusts into his mouth. At that moment, Leonard would have happily chosen to spend the rest of his life on his knees if it meant he could have more of that.

“Fuck, stop! Stop! I’m going to—fuck, Bones, get _up_ here.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his lips as he stumbled upright, mouth empty and pulsing, cock so hard it hurt, and he wanted more, needed more, and he would do anything if only—

“Lube? Condoms?” Jim whispered into his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at Leonard’s lips, his teeth, and Leonard moaned, shaking, he wanted it so much. He pushed his hips forward, aching for friction, for any contact at all, but Jim moved back, breathing heavily and smiling. “Give me a second, Bones, or it’s going to over before we even get started. Please tell me you have lube in here.”

“Top drawer,” he panted, and he should have felt ridiculous with his erection hanging out of his pants the way it was, feeling as eager and desperate as a teenager getting ready to lose it for the first time, but when Jim turned and bent over the desk instead of going around, Leonard’s thoughts shifted to other things like _fuck_ and _sweet mercy_ and _please don’t let me have a heart attack until after it’s all over._

Jim rummaged in the drawer and pulled out two packets victoriously as well as a condom that hadn’t been part of Leonard’s wishful thinking, at all. He winked at Leonard over his shoulder, just like during the exam, and Leonard swore that his brain stuttered.

“What happened to the gloves in here?” Jim asked, waving the empty box and leering cheerfully.

Leonard’s face got hotter and hotter until he began to worry blood vessels were exploding. “I . . . used them all.” It had been a long two weeks.

“Too bad. Next time then.” And with those astounding words, Jim set the packets down on the edge of the desk and got comfortable, spreading his legs slightly and wiggling in a way that had Leonard grabbing the base of his dick so he didn’t come right then and there.

He only spilled a little lube getting it on his fingers that time around, and he almost couldn’t comprehend the sensation of pushing into Jim without gloves on. Just incredible heat and shivering resistance and going further and further and further until his cock was crying in jealousy, and Leonard had to close his eyes, because the sight of it was too much.

By the time Jim was ready for him, Leonard was shaking like a leaf, so excited by what he was doing and the noises Jim was making that he couldn’t stop his own moan. It was nothing to the sound he made when he finally lined himself up and pressed slowly into Jim, however. He didn’t even know if he’d ever felt anything like it before, the pleasure, the absolute heat, because there was only that moment, only Jim, and there was nothing for Leonard to compare him to.

He leaned forward, needing to be closer still, wrapping his hands around Jim’s upper arms to hold him, anchor him as he thrust.

“Bones, ah—ah, fuck, _Bones_ —”

Leonard grit his teeth, heart threatening to beat its way out of his chest, and kept changing the angle of his hips until Jim shuddered and cried out underneath him, the knuckles of his left hand white where he gripped the desk, his right hand pumping furiously below.

Too much. It was all too much, and Leonard buried his face in Jim’s neck as his thrusts turned frantic, biting down to keep the sounds locked in as he came apart. A low static was in his ears as everything turned bright and indistinct, and the only thing holding him to the earth was the feel of Jim all around him.

Leonard had never felt as grateful for anything as for the fact that when he came to, Jim was just as wrecked as he was, breath just starting to slow down, tremors still occasionally traveling over his body. He would have been mortified if he’d had some sort of transcendental experience, and Jim had been bored.

He panted, raising his head up enough to see a bite mark on Jim’s shoulder that filled him with embarrassment and horror and no small amount of smug satisfaction.

“I should . . . get something to clean us up,” Leonard said, not moving, his chest pressed to Jim’s back, exhausted and exhilarated and damn near dizzy from it all.

Jim laughed, which did extremely interesting things to his body and made Leonard try to recall just how many condoms he’d bought. “Normally, I’d be all for relaxing a little bit longer, but your desk is not made for long naps, Bones, or short naps, or any naps at all really, and I think I’ve lost circulation to my legs.”

Leonard did not sulk as he reluctantly pulled away, not at all, but his breath did hitch when he saw Jim still bent over the desk, ass and thighs flushed, his anus red and slightly swollen, and if Jim hadn’t chosen that moment to groan and stand up, Leonard didn’t know what he would’ve done.

Okay, he did know. But he would have felt slightly bad about it.

Jim grinned at the frown on his face, giving him a quick kiss, and Leonard’s hands itched to tug him back. He didn’t understand how his desire for Jim could have increased instead of waned, but after having Jim, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let go of him now.

“Come on, Bones. The sooner we get dressed, the sooner we can get out of here.” He waggled his eyebrows outrageously, but his slow perusal of Leonard’s body held real intent. “We’ll grab pizza or something and go back to my place.”

Oh. Well then.

“So what’s with ‘Bones?’” he asked as he disposed of the condom and pulled up his pants. It was the second time he’d been around Jim with his pants around his ankles, he realized. Hopefully, it would become a habit.

Jim laughed, pausing in his search for his own clothes. “Well, partly it’s from the whole ‘sawbones’ thing. There’s just something about you that screams old world mentality, with your terrible bedside manner and dire predictions. ‘You’re taking your life into your own hands,’ blah, blah, blah.” He ducked the lab coat Leonard threw at him, grinning unrepentantly. “Mostly, though, was ‘cause of the way I walked in on you, and I wasn’t going to call you ‘Bo _ner_ ,’ so—”

“I said we weren’t talking about that!”

Jim laughed, shoulders shaking as he grabbed Leonard and pulled him close. And that was alright. That was just perfect in fact.


End file.
